THE

ALCHEMIST.

ARGUMENT.

The sickness hot," a master quit, for fear,
His house in town, and left one servant there;
E ase him corrupted, and gave means to know

A Cheater, and his punk; who now brought low,
Leaving their narrow practice, were become
Cozeners at large; and only wanting some
House to set up, with him they here contract,
E ach for a shure, and all begin to act.
Much company they draw, and much abuse,
I n casting figures, telling fortunes, news,
Selling of flies, flat bawdry with the stone,
Till it, and they, and all in fume are gone.

The sickness hot, &c.] This, as has been already observed, was the term in use for that species of plague with which London was so frequently afflicted in the 16th and 17th centuries. On the first decisive symptoms, the alarm became general, and all who could, hastened into the country, leaving their houses in the charge of some confidential servant. Lilly tells us, in the history of his life, that he was left, in 1625, " to take care of his master's house, which had much money and plate in it." He appears to have spent his time in frivolous dissipations; for 66 ease corrupted him" also, though it did not make him quite as profligate as Face.

3 Selling of flies,] i. e. of familiar spirits. See p. 25.

VOL. IV.

C

66

PROLOGUE.

Fortune, that favours fools, these two short hours We wish away, both for your sakes and ours, Judging spectators; and desire, in place,

To th' author justice, to ourselves but grace. Our scene is London, 'cause we would make known, No country's mirth is better than our own: No clime breeds better matter for your whore, Bawd, squire, impostor, many persons more, Whose manners, now call'd humours, feed the stage; And which have still been subject for the rage Or spleen of comic writers. Though this pen Did never aim to grieve, but better men; Howe'er the age he lives in doth endure

The vices that she breeds, above their cure. But when the wholesome remedies are sweet, And in their working gain and profit meet, He hopes to find no spirit so much diseased, But will with such fair correctives be pleased: For here he doth not fear who can apply. If there be any that will sit so nigh Unto the stream, to look what it doth run, They shall find things, they'd think or wish were done;

They are so natural follies, but so shown,

As even the doers may see, and yet not own.

4 Fortune that favours fools, &c.] We had this expression in Every Man out of his Humour. Jonson seems conscious of the surpassing attractions of this drama: he could not well, indeed, be ignorant of them; and if great merit could justify boasting, (which it cannot,) would need little apology for his bold appeal to the judgment, instead of the candour, of his audience.

5 Howe'er the age &c.] From Livy's preface to his history: Ad hæc tempora, quibus nec vitia nostra, nec remedia pati possumus, perventum est.

ACT I. SCENE I.

A Room in Lovewit's House.

Enter FACE, in a captain's uniform, with his sword drawn, and SUBTLE with a vial, quarrelling, and followed by DOL COMMON.

Face. Believe 't, I will.

Sub. Thy worst. I fart at thee.

Dol. Have you your wits? why, gentlemen! for love

Face. Sirrah, I'll strip you

Sub. What to do? lick figs'

Out at my

• Face. Sirrah, I'll strip you] "Our poet could not possibly have chosen a happier incident to open his play with. Instead of opening with a dull narration, you have action; and such action too, as cannot possibly be supposed to happen at any other time, than this very present time. Two rogues with their punk, are introduced quarrelling, and just so much of their secrets is discovered to the audience, as is sufficient for the audience at present to know." So far Upton talks judiciously :— but when he proceeds to inform the reader that " our learned comedian does not deal in vulgar English here, but in vulgar Attic or Roman expressions, and quotes Aristophanes and Horace, to prove his assertion; it is impossible to suppress a smile at such a ridiculous abuse of learning. The " vulgarity," with the leave of this tasteless idolater of the ancients, is truly English, and had been used to good effect, long before Jonson's time, by numbers of his countrymen, who never heard of the Plutus, or the Ibam forte via.

7 What to do? lick figs &c.] This alludes to a story told by Rabelais. In revenge for an insult offered to the empress by the Milanese, the emperor, Frederic Barbarossa, led her mule into the public square; there " par son ordonnance le bourreau

1

Face. Rogue, rogue !-out of all your sleights. Dol. Nay, look ye, sovereign, general, are you madmen?

Sub. O, let the wild sheep loose. I'll gum
your silks

With good strong water, an you come.
Dol. Will you have

The neighbours hear you? will you betray all?
Hark! I hear somebody.

Face. Sirrah

Sub. I shall mar

All that the tailor has made, if you approach. Face. You most notorious whelp, you insolent slave,

Dare you do this?

Sub. Yes, faith; yes, faith,
Face. Why, who

Am I, my mungrel? who am I?

Sub. I'll tell you,

Since you know not yourself.

Face. Speak lower, rogue.

Sub. Yes, you were once (time's not long past) the good,

Honest, plain, livery-three-pound-thrum,' that
kept

Your master's worship's house here in the Friers,
For the vacations-.

Face. Will you be so loud?

mist es membres honteuses de l'animal une figue, presents et voyants les citadins captifs: puis cria de par l'empereur à son de trompe, que quiconques d'iceulx vouldroit la mort évader, arrachast publicquement la figue avec les dents, puis la remist en propre lieu sans aide des mains." Lib. iv. c. 45.

8 Three-pound-thrum,] One whose livery was made of the ends of a weaver's warp, (thrums,) or coarse yarn, of which three pounds were sufficient to make him a suit. WHAL.

Or does it mean that his livery, which, in those days, was usu ally laced and badged, cost but three pounds?

Sub. Since, by my means, translated suburb

captain.

Face. By your means, doctor dog!
Sub. Within man's memory,

All this I speak of.

Face. Why, I pray you, have I

Been countenanced by you, or you by me?
Do but collect, sir, where I met you first.
Sub. I do not hear well.'

Face. Not of this, I think it.

But I shall put you in mind, sir;-at Pie-corner,
Taking your meal of steam in, from cooks' stalls,
Where, like the father of hunger, you did walk
Piteously costive, with your pinch'd-horn-nose,
And your complexion of the Roman wash,
Stuck full of black and melancholic worms,
Like powder-corns shot at the artillery-yard.
Sub. I wish you could advance your voice a
little.1

Face. When you went pinn'd up in the several

rags

You had raked and pick'd from dunghills, before

day;

Your feet in mouldy slippers, for your kibes;
A felt of rug, and a thin threaden cloke,
That scarce would cover your no buttocks-
Sub. So, sir!

Sub. I do not hear well.

Face. Not of this, I think it.] A pleasant pun on the Latin sense of hear well, to be well reputed. Just below, there is an allusion, equally facetious, to the Aureli, pater esuritionum of Catullus,

I wish you could advance your voice a little. i. e. speak louder. Face, who is the servant of the house, is afraid of being overheard by the neighbours, and therefore persists in speaking low, till he is completely roused by the sarcasms of Subtle. There is not a scene in any comedy in the English language, which, for genuine spirit and humour, and a close observance of Bature, can pretend to vie with this.